“Not a doubt of that!” says Charley. “The Black Mountain is the most famous place I know for becoming ravenously hungry and uncomfortably cold.” “But there is no reason why it should be so,” says Mr. Lanier. “Surely it is possible for a party to take with them all that they are likely to need in the way of food and clothing.” “Not so possible as you might think. The air up there gives people appetites such as they never had before in their lives; and the nights are often so cold that no amount of clothing will keep you warm.” “But you make fires, do you not?” asks Mrs. Cardigan. “We try to do so; but the balsam is the only wood to be had, and it is the hardest wood in the world out of which to make a fire. If you relax your attention to it for five minutes, it quietly subsides into a charred mass of black logs.” “What a prospect!” says Mrs. Cardigan, laughing. “We are to be starved and to be frozen; and what is to repay us for all this?” “The view,” says Sylvia, “and the proud consciousness of standing on the highest point of land east of the Rocky Mountains.” “But it is extremely likely that you will not have the view,” says Charley. “The rule on the Black is not to have it. People who live near the mountain will tell you that you might count on your fingers the days in the year when its summit is not wrapped in clouds.” “I think Mr. Kenyon must be endeavoring to dissuade us from making the ascent,” says Mrs. Cardigan. “It is certainly very kind of him to raise our spirits with such pleasant accounts of all that we are likely to encounter,” says Sylvia. “But, in spite of hunger, cold, and clouds, we mean to go.” “I never doubted that for a moment,” says Charley. “With such an able commanding officer as Mr. Markham, I am sure there is no reason to apprehend any misadventures,” says Mrs. Cardigan, turning her bright, brunette face toward Eric. “An officer should not be complimented before his ability has been tested,” he answers. “If it is settled that we start to-morrow, I must go and make arrangements for a supply of provisions.” He goes—rather glad, I think, to escape from the fair widow’s bewitching glances. This lady is never at a loss for a subject, however. All men, from seventeen to seventy, she esteems her lawful prey, and, failing one, she falls back, with easy grace, upon another. She steps now out of the room in which we are sitting onto a balcony, and calls Mr. Lanier to admire the view of the mountains that lie in blue waves along the southern horizon. “I am so glad that you advised me to come to this place,” we hear her say. “Down at the Springs one was so shut in by hills that it was almost equivalent to being in an oven; but here we have these lovely distant views, and such a stimulating atmosphere. If I were so fortunate as to be like yourself, one of a pleasant party, how I should delight in scampering all over the country! But it is so depressing to be alone.”